Nightmares
by clair beaubien
Summary: Tag scene to Taxi Driver. After the 2nd Trial, nightmares of hell keep Sam from getting any sleep. Because when did going to hell turn into a day trip? Rated for allusions to torture in the nightmares.


_Fire. Blood. Bone. Screams. Pain. Shame. Terror. Horror. Back in hell. Trapped in hell. It never hesitated. It never stopped. It never let up even for a second. It burned him. It hurt him. It terrified him… _

_SPN*SPN*SPN_

"Dean? _Dean?_ Wake up. Dean, please, wake up."

Dean shot awake, feeling his heart pound and a cold sweat break out all over him. He sat up in bed, trying to drag reality and possible threats into his brain as fast as possible.

They were in a motel. They were on their way to the bunker. There was no shouldn't be any threat from anything. But Sam was gripping his shoulders and in the light of the bedside lamp he looked decidedly freaked.

_Hell_, Dean suddenly remembered. Sam had been back to hell.

"Sam? What? What's going on? Are you okay? What happened?"

"What?" Sam asked. He sounded like he had no clue what Dean was talking about. "I - it – what?"

"Uhh – you're the one waking me up." Dean pointed out and Sam looked down at his hands like they'd gotten to Dean's shoulders without his permission. He didn't say anything. "What's wrong? Sammy? What happened? You okay?"

"Uh – yeah. I – yeah." Sam let go of Dean and stood back. "It – it was a nightmare. I think it was a nightmare."

"You_ think_? Why? What was it?"

"No. Yeah. It was a nightmare." Sam sat down on the edge of his bed. He looked like he still wasn't quite with it. Dean sat up on the edge of his own bed.

"Sammy? C'mon – what was it? You okay?"

"I – you were in trouble. I couldn't – you were in trouble."

"Okay. Well, I'm okay." Dean said it slowly; Sam seriously looked freaked and Dean wanted to calm him down. "Right? I'm okay. It was just a nightmare."

"_Are_ you okay?" Sam asked. "It was – I couldn't - are you okay?"

Sure, Sam got nightmares. A lot of nightmares. What Winchester didn't? Somewhere in the world untold children slept soundly every night because the Winchesters got their share of nightmares instead. But usually when Sam had a nightmare, even if it was bad enough that it woke Dean up, usually Sam would just look around the room, gets his bearings, catch his breath, and go back to sleep.

But if he couldn't even string a complete sentence together, Dean didn't want to know how bad that was. But he could guess.

_It was bad._

"I'm fine, Sammy. I am. Okay? Just a nightmare. Right? Just a nightmare."

"Uh – yeah. Yeah. It's – yeah. Okay. Yeah."

"Okay. So – you gonna be able to get back to sleep?"

Sam didn't answer right away. He still looked freaked and even confused. He shook his head a little but finally looked up at Dean.

"Yeah, uh – yeah. I can get back to sleep. I'll – yeah. Yeah."

He pulled his blankets back and slid under them and turned away from Dean.

"Okay. You wake me up if you have to, okay?" Dean told him. "Don't worry about it. Just wake me up."

"Yeah. Okay. I will. I will."

___SPN*SPN*SPN_

_Hell. Hell took him back. Opened wide and swallowed him down. Into fire and leering faces. Acrid laughter. No way to run. Nowhere to hide. Hands made of acid steel, touching, cutting, stabbing, ripping, piercing, screaming, screaming, screaming…_

_____SPN*SPN*SPN_

"DEAN!"

Dean came awake faster into the same situation - Sam's hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake, sounding like he thought the monsters were right in the room with them.

"I'm awake. I'm awake, Sammy."

Dean sat up and Sam let go and dropped back on his bed with a loud, relieved sigh. He was pale and breathing hard. Dean thought he might even be shaking. The bedside light was already on.

"Sammy, dude - what the hell?"

"I - uh - just - just - you were in trouble. I couldn't - I couldn't get you to - I couldn't help you. You were - it was like you were trying to scream_._"

He sounded embarrassed saying it, whispering it practically. Like he was ashamed.

Maybe _'what the hell'_ wasn't exactly the right choice of words.

Dean scrubbed his face and looked at his watch and wished he hadn't when Sam got that pinched, _'I'm sorry I'm bothering you'_ look on his face. It was just over an hour since the last nightmare.

"Hey, Sammy, c'mon. It's okay. Nightmares are just part of the package deal, right? You know, I get nightmares sometimes, too. It's no big deal."

Sam looked at him like he couldn't believe Dean was admitting that. Dean shrugged.

"I don't usually tell you about 'em, But - I know that you don't usually tell me about yours, either. So I know these are bad to be waking you up like that. Okay? But - it's okay. I'm okay; you're okay. It's just nightmares. They can't hurt you. They can't hurt me, okay? The worst they can do is make you fall asleep in the car tomorrow."

He waited, but Sam didn't answer him.

"Sam - okay?"

"Are _you _okay, Dean? Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine_. Whatever you're dreaming, hell or purgatory or whatever - Sammy, I'm fine."

Sam nodded and kind of looked at his bed and then looked up at the ceiling and sighed like the night was just getting too much for him.

"You want a sleepy-time pill?" Dean asked. "That'll put you under and maybe -"

"No! No - I don't want one of those. I can't - no. I need to be able to wake up. _Please_."

Dean started to offer that he'd wake Sam up if he - when he - had another nightmare, but he hadn't heard these last two, so maybe it was just as well that he not try to slip a sleeping pill unnoticed to Sam.

"All right. No drugs. How about a shot of whiskey? Just to calm you down?"

"No. Not that either. No. Thanks."

Dean looked at Sam for some clue of what was going on in his head, in his dreams. Sam was more than physically exhausted, these nightmares were doing some kind of tap-dance on his soul.

"Was it going back into hell this second time?" Dean asked. Sam's head shot up at the question. "I can imagine - Sammy, you _know _I can imagine what was going through your head, going down there again. I mean, thank God you got Bobby out, but you don't have to pretend you're fine and it was a cakewalk, because I know it wasn't and you're not. Okay?"

Sam nodded, heavily, like he was just too tired for quick, shallow nods.

"I know. I - just - I know it wasn't easy on you to let me go."

"No. It wasn't." Dean said. And that's all he was going to say about that. "Hey, look - " he started again. "You want me to - you want me to sit up with you? Just for a while? Just till - you're set?"

Sam looked up, he looked like he was this close to considering it.

Then, "You need to sleep, too. You're getting even less sleep than I am."

"Hey, wouldn't be the first time I sat shotgun on your nightmares. As I recall," Dean put some pride into his voice. "I was always pretty good at chasing them away."

"Yeah, you were." Sam answered and smiled. "But- I'm good. You're good, too, right?"

"I'm good, Sammy. C'mon, let's get some more sleep."

"Yeah."

After Sam was under his blankets and asleep, Dean turned off the light and stayed awake a little while longer.

___SPN*SPN*SPN_

_Bones breaking silence. Blood dripping screams. Flayed flesh covering him like a warm wet slippery blanket. Fire. Pain. Agony. Terror. Regret. Hell knew him. Hell remembered him. Hell wanted him back to stay._

___SPN*SPN*SPN_

"_DEAN! PLEASE!"_

Dean came awake immediately that time, automatically reaching for the hands that grabbed at his shoulders.

"I'm awake. Sam, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here."

He sat up, keeping his hands on Sam's arms, instinctively trying to keep Sam grounded no matter how freaked he was this time.

"Dean? Dean – are you okay?"

Sam's voice was shaking, he was shaking, and Dean wasn't much better, jolted out of sound sleep – again – by whatever was freaking Sam out.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Sammy, I'm okay. Okay? C'mon. C'mon, sit down. Sit back down."

Dean used his hands on Sam's arms to guide him back to his bed. When he was sitting, Dean let go of him, snicked the bedside lamp on and sat across from him. A fast check of the motel clock showed that only about forty minutes had passed since the last time Sam woke up from a nightmare.

"Okay. You're okay, Sammy. All right? Just – just – "

Just _what_? Calm down? Relax? Look around and realize he was safe? Sure, but all that would be occurring to Sam. What were his nightmares about? That something was happening to Dean.

"I'm okay, Sam. It was a nightmare. We're both okay. It was just a nightmare."

"But – but you were –" Sam swallowed a distressed gulp. "I couldn't help you. You were in trouble and I couldn't help you."

"I'm okay." Dean said. Again. He kept his voice low and calm. "It's just a nightmare and I'm okay."

"It was just - " Sam dragged a hand over his face and sniffed deeply. "I needed to help you."

Dean sighed. Sam looked totally wasted and Dean didn't feel much better. It was only a little after 2am, Dean hadn't had nearly enough sleep to put them on the road again, even if it would get them back to the Bat Cave that much sooner. But maybe that was better than Sam eating nightmares all night.

"Sam - tell me what the nightmares are about."

"_I don't know." _Sam told him. Like Dean had asked a dozen times already. "I only know that you're in trouble and I can't – I don't know how to help you."

"You wanna get on the road? Head home? Maybe familiar surroundings will help."

"Maybe…" Sam allowed. "But I don't think either of us is fit to drive right now."

"Having nightmares every half hour isn't going to make us any more fit in the morning, either."

"_Are _you okay?" Sam asked, again. For about the thousandth time that night it felt like to Dean.

"You're the one who took the broken escalator to hell, not me."

"But you – you – you had to get me back."

Sam said it quietly; he knew it was a dangerous place to take the conversation. Dean let himself think for one full second what getting Sam back had cost him. And then he moved on.

"And I _did_ get you back, and you're safe. Right? You're safe. I'm safe. I'm okay. Okay?"

"Are you okay?" Sam asked. For the thousandth and first time that night.

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean said, determined that it would be the last time he said it that night. "Let's give this one more try. If you wake up with another nightmare, we'll take it on the road and head for home. Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. Yeah."

"And if you ask me one more time if I'm okay, I _will_ drug you senseless, got it?"

Sam closed his eyes and smiled a small huff of amusement.

"Yes, Dean."

"Good. Bed. Wake me up when you need me."

"Yeah."

And Dean waited while Sam got under his covers before getting comfortable in his own bed again. He reached up to the light, but at the last minute he decided to leave it on.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam asked, just when Dean was hoping Sam was falling asleep.

"Yeah?"

"You remember when I was eight, when I first started getting the really bad nightmares, you told me that if something was after me in my dreams, that if I called you, if I called you in my dreams, you'd show up and save me."

"Okay…"

"It worked. You know? It always worked. I'd call you in my dream and you'd come save me in my dream. It worked. Calling you always worked."

"Good. Okay. See, told you I was awesome at getting rid of your nightmares. Give that a try again if you get another nightmare."

"Yeah. I will."

_SPN*SPN*SPN_

_Bright blackness. Living death. Gutting madness. Howling memories. Shame and blame and rivers of blood burning through twisting bodies livid and gratified and smug and possessing everything and nothing and all at once and the terror and horror and filth and agony howled closer and closer until he called out his brother's name and it fell back. It all fell back in sudden surprise and howling disbelief. _

_He called his brother's name again. He called, "Sam!" and hell rolled shut and fell away. _

___SPN*SPN*SPN_

The End.


End file.
